Waiting for the Sunrise
by Miss Becky
Summary: Catti-brie struggles with her emotions after the events of The Silent Blade.


Waiting for the Sunrise  
  
Disclaimer: Catti-brie and Drizzt aren't mine. They belong to R.A. Salvatore and TSR. And maybe one day to each other, if they ever stop dithering around and just do it.  
  
Summary: Catti-brie struggles with her emotions after the events of The Silent Blade. Major spoilers for the end of that book if you have not read it yet.  
  
Feedback: is always given a warm hug. Review or write to me. beckyg19@yahoo.com  
  
****  
  
Catti-brie wasn't sure she could stand it any more.  
  
Once upon a time, her life hadn't been so complicated. There had been her and Bruenor and the other dwarves. Sitting atop Bruenor's Climb. The whistling wind of Icewind Dale. The comforting noise and smells of the mines. There had never been a reason to think any of that would ever change.  
  
Sometimes, when she was feeling particularly sorry for herself, she cursed the stupidly innocent child she had been, and that day she had convinced Bruenor to let her go out and play in the snow, that day she had encountered the strange drow elf on Kelvin's Cairn. Because from that moment on, things had stopped being so simple. Now here she was, almost twenty years later, and life had never been so complex.  
  
She sat in the darkness of near-morning, perched on the gray limb of a fallen tree, her eyes resolutely staring forward. The eastern horizon stretched before her, but Catti-brie did not see it.  
  
Instead she kept seeing, over and over, the grisly images playing in her head. Always the same ones. Entreri moving in for the kill. The blood, so brilliantly red. The way Drizzt's eyes had widened in shock and pain, in the moment before he collapsed. The obscenely gentle way Entreri had guided the drow's fall to the floor.  
  
And it was worse somehow -- although she didn't understand why -- knowing that the story didn't end there. Because Drizzt had not died, after all. Jarlaxle had saved him, for reasons known only to the mercenary leader, reasons no one else would probably ever know.  
  
She should be happy. She was happy, she told herself fiercely. She was.  
  
So why did she still feel like she was sinking? Like the fall that had begun while standing atop the crystalline stair of Cryshal Tirith had never stopped?  
  
"Get hold of yerself, girl," she whispered. She didn't like feeling this way, as though every step she took might spill her to the ground. It made her uneasy, as though she was missing something vital, something that might leap on her and claw her open if she didn't see it coming in time.  
  
Losing Wulfgar had been bad enough, but watching Drizzt lying so still, dying on the floor of that cursed tower, had simply shattered her. Bruenor had flung himself at the transparent wall, striking out wildly with his axe, but Catti-brie had been frozen still, paralyzed by grief.  
  
It terrified her, the power of that grief. She had lost Wulfgar because he had let emotion rule him, and she was suddenly certain that the same fate lurked in her future. Because she could not hide from the truth any longer.  
  
She loved Drizzt.  
  
Catti-brie had no idea what that meant. She didn't know what would happen next. She was scared to think what it might be. But life could not go on as it had, not now. She knew things about herself now, things she could not forget, or ignore. When Drizzt had fallen, everything had changed. Things would never be the same again.  
  
A small sound behind her made her tense, although she did not turn her head. She knew that sound had been deliberate, a gentle acknowledgement of her non-elven senses. "I was expectin' ye," she said.  
  
"Were you?"  
  
She nodded, but still did not look at him. "Sunrise is almost here."  
  
"I was talking with Bruenor. He said if I ever did anything like that again, he would kill me himself."  
  
Catti-brie couldn't help smiling. "Best ye take that warning to heart, then."  
  
"And you?"  
  
She didn't need to turn her head to be able to picture the expression on his face, concerned and guilty and stubborn and a little fearful, all at once. It was the expression he always seemed to wear when he was around her these days.  
  
When she said nothing, he asked, "Jarlaxle has the crystal shard, and Wulfgar is gone, hopefully to find himself. What will we do now?"  
  
I have no idea, Catti-brie wanted to say, and then realized it didn't matter. None of it mattered. The one she loved was alive and beside her. She was scared to death for her future, and she had never been happier.  
  
"We do what we do every day," she said, and finally turned her head to look at him. "We watch the sunrise."  
  
****  
  
END 


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